


Loyalty

by ForensicSpider98



Series: Love After the Fact [26]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, All this stress is bad for the baby, Altean Adam (Voltron), Altean Prince Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Aromantic Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Balmeran Hunk (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Galra Shiro (Voltron), Galran Prince Keith (Voltron), Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Dilemmas, Multi, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Olkari Pidge | Katie Holt, Post-War, it's keith. keith is the baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:37:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23710903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForensicSpider98/pseuds/ForensicSpider98
Summary: Lance makes an offer to a not-so-distant friendAlso, headcannon that Lotor has orange scales like his mom :)
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Alfor/Coran (Voltron), Allura/Lotor/Romelle (Voltron), Haggar/Zarkon (Voltron), Hunk & Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Love After the Fact [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635043
Comments: 21
Kudos: 212





	Loyalty

Lance sits on the ground in the grotto, pulls a comms device out of his boot. All he has to do now is wait. So that’s exactly what he does, tossing the comms device back and forth between his hands. He’d managed to lighten his mood for a dobosh or two, long enough to put Keith at ease for a bit, but now he can feel himself starting to shake.

He stops playing with the comms device once his hands start shaking so bad he nearly fumbles it into the pool. The little fish don't know to dart away, unfamiliar with predators from above.

“Lance, what’s going on?” Keith whispers, voice low. He sits off to the side, knees tucked up, tail curled around his feet, twisting the end of his braid between his fingers. Galra, Lance thinks. They’re so instinctive, so insightful. He couldn’t pull anything over on Keith if he wanted to. To the kit’s credit, he looks more ready to draw a weapon than to cower in a corner.

It’s amazing what agency does for a person’s spirit. Since being allowed to do things and be useful, Keith's become fiercer, less aloof, more prone to humor.

“Those rumors Lanval talked about? I’m worried they might not be rumors. I’ve asked Shiro via Adam’s comms device to set up a conference between me and Lotor to discuss strategies.”

“Strategies,” Keith grumbles. “Lance, you’re just a prince. You only have what power Alfor bothers to give you. And then _I_ only have what power _you_ bother to give _me_.”

“That’s appointed power, beloved. Lotor and I have much more than that. We’re attractive and charming, and so are our spouses.” Lance smiles. “The people don’t know what we are and are not allowed to do. But they want to follow us and be like us. We choose how we want them to behave, and then that is how we must behave ourselves.”

Keith stares into Lance’s eyes. Lance lets him, lets him seek out whatever he’s looking for. After a moment, Keith sits back. “I’ve never had power or influence. I don’t really know what they are or how to use them. I can only trust you.” He reaches out, brushes some of Lance’s hair out of his face, smirks. “So don’t fuck it up, okay?”

“But you-” The comms device buzzes in Lance’s hand. He answers, letting it over in front of him. “Prince Lotor.”

“Crown Prince Lancel.” Lotor smiles, the orange scales glittering on his cheeks. They shine with green iridescence when the light hits them and they have a different shape, more like bolts of electricity than the spread wings of the Alteans. “It’s good to hear from you. Though,” Lotor frowns, “I can’t imagine this is a social call, given the secrecy.”

“Not, it is not… Shiro. Are you listening?”

“I’m here,” Shiro murmurs, stepping into view. Keith notices from the corner of his eye as Adam slips into the grotto. Keith stays out of view of the call, leans up against the wall, arms folded. He can practically see Lance shaking, hands twisting in his lap.

“Right. Where to begin…”

“Take your time,” Lotor says, tucking a lock of silver hair behind his ear. “I will listen.”

Keith suddenly remembers that Lotor is several decaphoebs older than they are, has been given more power and responsibility. Lotor actually knows what he's doing. Lance is just doing the best he can.

“Right.” Lance takes a deep breath. May the Ancients forgive what he’s about to do. “I recently received word that there are rumors running through my court that Altea still prepares for war with Daibazaal. Looking into it, one of my associates discovered a hidden war room we believe is connected to my father’s laboratory.” Lance closes his mouth, waits to see if Lotor has anything to say.

Lotor’s frown deepens, brows furrow, but he merely gestures for Lance to continue. Lance sits up a little straighter, hands in his lap. His fingers clench so tight his knuckles are white even against his brown skin. Keith can see him tremble, hear every rattle of his lungs as he takes a deep breath.

“I do not know if King Alfor intends to invade or if he is simply concocting contingency plans in case you choose to betray us, but… In the event that my father does launch an attack on Daibazaal and her people, I humbly request asylum for myself, my husband, and our associates. My people will not survive another war with Daibazaal. They are tired, and our numbers have begun to dwindle. Children are fewer and we have lost many soldiers. I do not wish to put them through another war.

“I am quickly gaining the respect and love of my citizens. If I side with you, they may yet turn against my father if such a thing occurs. Siding with Daibazaal is my people’s greatest chance. And… It is my husband’s only chance. If King Alfor chooses to turn on Daibazaal, he will surely kill him. I would not have him die. 

“Please, Prince Lotor. I beg of you, help me save my people.”

There's a long stretch of silence where no one speaks, where the entire grotto holds its breath. Keith gapes, eyes wide, mind reeling at the image of his spouse. He hasn’t seen this version of Lance yet, this version with the one thing his father lacks entirely: humility.

Lance kneels with his head bowed before a foreign prince, before the man he only a little while ago called his enemy. The circlet on his head, shining in his white hair suddenly means so much more than Keith ever gave it credit for. It’s a heavier thing than ever he knew.

“It’s a little early to commit treason, given your evidence.” Lotor hums. “But not necessarily inappropriate given our circumstances. I find it interesting that you have heard the exact same rumors I have, seemingly within a movement of my hearing them.”

Lance lifts his head. Keith can see his throat bob as he swallows. “You have heard the same?”

“Yes, though it is not clear who is the assumed aggressor… I silenced the rumors as soon as I heard them. The only Altean to travel to Daibazaal since your wedding has been your attendant, Adam. Do you trust him?” _In a manner of speaking,_ Keith thinks.

“Completely. I sent him to investigate the rumor and do some research for me.”

“So he traveled here _after_ you caught wind of the rumor. Very interesting… What of outside our little system?”

“You’re implying we may share an outside enemy?”

“It’s more than possible.” Lotor sighs, leaning back in his chair. “Let us look into outsiders before we look into each other, shall we? We’ll give our fathers the benefit of the doubt for now. But should King Alfor turn against us, you and yours will be welcomed. I would not have your people condemned based upon the wayward whims of their king.

“In the meantime, let’s you and I come up with ways in which we might better present a united front. Perhaps I could come visit. I’ll bring Allura, and Romelle is well enough to travel. We can… I don’t know, wander together about the city or something.”

“There is the Frost Ball. It’s as tedious and lame as it sounds, so you might as well come and shake things up. I shall tell my father that I invited you. I’m deeply sorry that I forgot to run it by him first.”

Lotor smiles. “That sounds perfect. Hopefully we can find an excuse to bring you to Daibazaal soon enough.”

“I think Prince Yorak would like that.” Lance finally smiles, eyes sliding to Keith. He’s still shaking, having essentially promised to commit conditional treason, but Keith sees that weight on his head lighten just enough for the crown prince to straighten his shoulders again. "Truth be told, I would like that as well."

“Excellent. In the meantime, let us look into our outside relations and see what we can find. I will confer with you as soon as possible.”

Lance bows his head again. “You have my deepest thanks, Prince Lotor. From myself, and my people, though they do not know it.”

This time, when Prince Lotor smiles, it’s sad. “And you, Crown Prince Lancel, have my deepest respect. Let us pray that your people never need know what transpired today. Farewell.”

“Farewell,” Lance whispers, head still bowed. Lotor ends the conference, and the comms unit goes dormant. Lance heaves an exhausted sigh.

Keith stares. Lance would give up his seat, give up any chance at a relationship with his father, give anything, everything to see his people safe. Keith knew this already, of course. He’s known it from the quintant they met.

But to betray _the_ Crown is to surrender _his_ crown, and Lance stares that possibility in the face, trembles, but does not flinch. Keith moves from his place against the wall, begins working feeling back into Lance’s cramped hands.

Keith has spent his entire life resenting royalty. They’re the ones who took his mother away, the ones who caused the death of his father. Thanks to them, Keith spent eleven long decaphoebs of his childhood alone and isolated from civilization. Still, it’s here, in the presence of a fearful, inexperienced youth destined to one day be a king, that Keith feels at home for the first time since he was six decaphoebs old.

So, he makes a move in its own way as bold as Lance’s. Keith lays a gentle hand against Lance’s cheek, coaxes the Altean to meet his eyes. Despite the fear there, those eyes do not waver. Lance does. not. flinch. And neither does Keith as he gently presses their brows together, brushes his thumb over those blue scales. They’re iridescent like Lotor’s, Keith suddenly notices, shimmering red where the light hits them. A heart full of love for his people and fire for their survival.

Lance’s breath comes ragged and fast. Keith closes his eyes, takes deep, cleansing breaths, waits for his spouse to match up with him. There’s a sniffle, something wet where Keith brushes his thumb over Lance’s scales again. He takes Lance’s hand -It’s larger than his own, he finally realizes- and holds it against his chest, over the greater of his hearts.

Lance shifts forward, rests his brow against Keith’s collarbone, and Keith embraces him without a second thought. It matters not what happens next, what the higher royals choose to do with the toys they call people. Keith will not be coming back from this.

He will not be coming back from Lance.

**Author's Note:**

> Next time on Love After the Fact: What is the densest substance in the universe?


End file.
